


My True Love Gave To Me

by HollyBrianne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyBrianne/pseuds/HollyBrianne
Summary: Years after the war, Hermione and Draco work together (almost amicably) at the Ministry. Hermione is thrown a curveball when she draws Draco to buy a Secret Santa present for, and then she starts receiving gifts from her own Secret Santa which follows the muggle Christmas carol The Twelve Days of Christmas.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 17
Kudos: 181





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted a few years ago on my ffnet account, cross-posting for holiday cheer.

Despite the scalding heat, Hermione gripped her hot chocolate mug like it might spontaneously turn into a portkey and pull her away.

That is to say, tightly and desperately, hoping but sorely disappointed.

The large conference room currently housed the entirety of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, called together by department head Gawain Robards. The meeting was far from the professional affair she had expected. When she'd walked in, the sparkle of tinsel and garland assaulted her. Then she was handed the steaming peppermint and chocolate scented mug. ( _Delicious_ , though she was loathe to admit.) The soft tinkle of jingle bells seemed to come from every corner. Robards' secretary danced by with full size candy cane earrings swaying from her lobes. Christmas had arrived at the Ministry.

_Cue the eye roll._

It's not that she was a Grinch or anything, Hermione enjoyed seasonal cheer just fine. It was just that this would be her first year since she finished school that she would spend the holiday single. Unattached. Stag. No matter how she phrased it, it meant the same thing: alone. Growing up an only child had taught her the simple joy of a quiet holiday, but in the last six years of being Ron's girlfriend, she'd grown quite accustomed to the organized chaos that was a Weasley Christmas. Hermione's holiday invitation hadn't been officially rescinded, but... would she still be welcome? She sighed and played it off like she was blowing to cool off her drink. She perked up in time to hear the end of Robards' announcement.

"And so, in the holiday spirit, we are bringing back a long overdue tradition: Department Secret Santa. Everyone's name is in this cauldron and you'll each get one- yes, Jeffries, it's mandatory. Our annual Christmas party is exactly two weeks away on Christmas Eve and we'll be exchanging gifts and revealing our secret Santas then. Cheers!" He lifted his own mug. "Now come on up you lot, pick a name."

Hermione hung back, dutifully avoiding a run in with Ron by striking up a regrettable conversation. Tricia from the Wizengamot Administration Services office easily prattled on about her plans for the weekend which, apparently, now included shopping for her secret Santa gift and how she so badly hoped that she picked some hunky bachelor so-and-so from the Improper Use of Magic office and plenty of other run-on sentences that Hermione only half listened to. Eventually she was able to extricate herself and, upon seeing the coast was clear of redheads, she went up to pick a slip of parchment from the cauldron. The name on the parchment caused her mouth to settle into an agonized scowl.

**Draco Malfoy**

Perfect. Just _perfect._

...

"Trade with me," Hermione demanded as she marched into Harry's office soon after, lucky to find him alone.

"What?" Harry wiped his glasses on his robe and put them back on, squinting at Hermione's angry face.

"Secret Santa. I've drawn Malfoy and I refuse." She thrust her fist toward him. The parchment was no longer folded neatly, but instead sat as a crinkled ball between her index finger and thumb.

"Hermione..." Harry started with his hands up in a placating stance. He was using that tone of voice that reeked like the beginning of an argument.

"Harry, it's bad enough that I have to work with the ferret. Please?" She exaggerated a pout for good measure.

Harry grimaced and scratched his head. "Hermione, you know I'd do anything for you. And I don't even mind Malfoy much anymore, I've gotten used to him in the past couple of years working together. We... we actually went out for pints a couple of weeks ago to celebrate that illegal potions bust..."

"It's settled then. Get him a set of cufflinks with a rodent design and give him my regards the next time you get pissed together." Her arm was still extended with the parchment and it did not escape her notice that Harry hadn't moved to accept it yet.

"We did _not_ get pissed, and if you tell Ginny otherwise I'll..." Harry cut himself with a wave of his hand. "We're off point. What I meant is that I'd be fine to trade you if I thought you'd be any happier with the name I picked." He let his words hang and watched her as she made the mental leap to fill in the unspoken words.

Hermione's face dropped. "You... you drew Ron." It wasn't a question.

Harry nodded. "Which would be worse for you?"

Hermione bit her lip. Getting a gift for Ron would be awkward to say the very least. Their break up was still rather fresh and she didn't want to send the wrong idea with a present. On the other hand, it was Malfoy. She thought for a while until finally scrunching up her nose in defeat.

"Fine," she relented. "I'll keep Malfoy."

...

As she returned to her desk, she noticed she had a visitor of her own. "Speak of the devil," she muttered as she recognized the blond hair bowed over her desk, inspecting a document. "Can I help you?" Her tone was just as harsh as she meant it to be. It was only half ten but she was already ready to put the day to bed and start on her weekend.

"Granger! I didn't see you there!" He jumped and spun, obviously startled, though she had to credit him for keeping his expression poised.

"It is _my_ desk." Hermione rounded said desk and stood next to her chair, reluctant to sit down should he take that as an invitation to do the same.

"Yes, well I came to see if you had the Lornridge file so I could look at it before you turn it in." Something about his stance seemed off. Like his usual arrogance had taken a slight blow.

"We went over that one last week. I turned it in yesterday."

"Right. I meant the Shabbley one. My mistake."

"I've only just started on that. Not much to see yet."

"Right, right," he repeated and drummed his fingers against the desk.

Deciding she had waited long enough, Hermione sat in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. "Malfoy, what are you really doing here?"

Malfoy looked around, seeming to run out of excuses, and sat opposite her. "Fine. This Secret Santa business..."

Hermione stiffened. _Did he know she picked him?_

"I have no clue what to get," he finished in a lower tone, as if they were conspiring together. He needn't worry about being overheard, she thought. Although she wasn't graced with her own office, the next nearest desks were several paces away and largely empty at the moment.

So he didn't know she was his secret santa, but he still hadn't really answered her question. "Congratulations. Me neither. Why would you come here to tell _me_ that?"

Malfoy lifted his hand from her desk to rake through his perfectly coifed hair. "Merlin! You are supposed to be the brightest witch here, are you honestly this thick?"

Her eyes bulged as she caught his meaning. "You're asking for help?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Simply soliciting a muggleborn opinion. My person is muggleborn."

"And this is how you ask?" She replied hotly. "Coming to my desk uninvited and insulting my intelligence? You could have tried a nice approach."

" _Uninvited?_ Really? We've worked together for months now, how else do you expect we get anything done? It's not like I'm showing up at your flat in the middle of the night."

Hermione blanched at the implication.

"Anyway, I did try _nice_ ," he huffed. "You're the one giving me sarcasm and suspicion."

"Hardly." She regained her composure and eyed him through narrowed lids. "Harry was raised by muggles, ask him. I heard you two are nearly mates now."

He shrugged again. "I'm asking you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"It's... she's a woman." A slight pink glow appeared on his ears momentarily.

"Aha..." She let the corners of her mouth curl up.

" _Aha_ nothing. Are you going to help me or not?"

"You like her." Hermione delighted in Malfoy's reaction. He practically spluttered.

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't have to."

"Because it's not true!"

She was sporting a full Cheshire smile by that point. "It's an office Secret Santa. Why else would you care so much?" When he didn't answer, she turned and tapped her radio with the tip of her wand.

_"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..."_

"I'll help. But you owe me now." The Shabbley file went flying in Malfoy's direction and he caught it without batting an eye.

"What is this noise?" He said in a scoff.

"Muggle Christmas music. It relaxes me. Puts me in a generous mood. If you didn't notice, I just agreed to help you."

"This is you being generous?" He held up the file, thick with uncompleted work.

Hermione nodded. "If we get enough done on that we can skive off work and use the rest of our Friday to shop for your witch."

...

The Shabbley file took longer than either of them expected. They were only about halfway through when Hermione realized they'd missed lunch and it was way past dark.

"Monday," she promised him, because she couldn't stomach the idea of voluntarily spending time with Draco Malfoy on the weekend.

"Monday," he affirmed, probably thinking the same thing. So when Monday came around and she found him at her desk first thing in the morning, she could hardly call it uninvited this time. He had a strange demeanor about him, and as she approached she noticed what he was staring at.

Two potted trees flanked her desk and... was that a cage sitting atop her incoming mail tray?

"Granger!" He breathed, startled again by her appearance.

"Malfoy. You really must stop being surprised by my presence at my own desk." She surveyed her mail tray. Yes, it was definitely a cage, and even more curious was the grey and brown bird inside the cage. "Did you bring all this?"

"No," he shook his head and pointed to a parchment sticking out from under the cage. It was a type written note which simply read **From your Secret Santa**.

Hermione looked around dumbly. "Did you see anyone leave it?" Another shake of his blond head, but he was starting to look amused now.

"You've got an overachiever. Gifts aren't supposed to be exchanged until next Friday." Malfoy went over to one of the trees and rubbed a leaf between his fingers.

"What even is this?" Hermione looked from tree to tree.

"Something in the citrus family?" Malfoy offered, barely able to hide a snigger. She glared at him. "Hell, I don't know. Some bloke, presumably, thinks your Christmas wish is a partridge and a pair of trees?"

Hermione spun on the spot. "What did you say?"

Malfoy cocked his head to the side. "Come on, it has to be a bloke. What kind of witch would give this to another witch?"

"No, I mean, you said that's a partridge?" She clarified, taking a closer look at the now agitated bird.

"I'd wager. It's a gamebird." He rubbed his chin. "Larger than a quail, but smaller than a pheasant."

Hermione moaned as realization dawned. "A partridge and a _pair of_ trees. This isn't just an early gift. This is the first of twelve I'll get every day until Christmas eve..."


	2. Chapter 2

"Twelve?" Malfoy repeated and shot her a look of confusion. "How do you figure that?"

"It's from a muggle Christmas carol like I was playing on Friday while we worked. In fact, I'm sure it was one of the ones that played! Did you notice anyone around listening?" Hermione's eyes darted around to the nearby desks and a few Ministry workers passing by.

"I can't recall..." Malfoy said, following her gaze. "How does the song go?"

"Well, it's a basically just a list of presents for each of the twelve days leading up to Christmas. On the first day, it's this," she indicated at the trees and the bird cage and then amended. "Sort of. Then on day two it's two of something, day three it's three of something, and so on." She checked her calendar. It was the thirteenth, exactly the right number of days left to reach day twelve by Christmas eve.

"I take it back. You didn't get an overachiever as your secret santa, you got a nutter." Malfoy chuckled to himself and put a file down on Hermione's desk. "What do you say we head out shopping? I guess we have to find some birdseed now."

Hermione glowered at him. "This is ridiculous. I'm not keeping the bird. Besides, we have work to do." She grabbed the file he had just discarded and began to flip through. "Is this... finished?"

"I took it home over the weekend." Malfoy said as Hermione's jaw silently dropped open. "You could say 'thank you'."

She clamped her mouth closed in a thin line. "I won't. You only took it home so that we'd have time to go shopping for your secret santa gift."

"So?" He shifted his weight so that he was casually leaning to one side.

"So nothing. Why would I say thank you when you didn't do it for me? It was self-serving."

Malfoy snorted. "Slytherin," he said as he pointed at his chest. "But I'd be entirely shocked if you've never done something nice for someone else that also happened to help yourself."

Hermione pursed her lips, but he had a point so she didn't respond. The file fell back down onto her desk with a thud, causing the bird to twitter in its cage. "Alright, I suddenly have the morning free. Diagon Alley?"

...

They walked through Diagon Alley with her new feathered friend in tow. The thing really was a charming bird and he was starting to grow on her. Besides, it's rude to return a gift, right? She decided to keep him and dubbed him Keith, not that Malfoy understood the joke.

"Odd name for a bird." He said with a crinkle in his nose that looked as though he was avoiding a bad smell.

"And Draco's an odd name for a human, don't you think?" she retorted before she could stop herself. She braced for his inevitable fiery reply, but a soft laugh met her ears.

"Sure, _Hermione._ "

Hermione knew he only used her given name to prove a point, but the sound of her name on his tongue, the shape of his lips as he formed the syllables, affected her gut in a way that made her irrationally confused. When did she start having banter with Draco Malfoy? When did they start joking together? And when did he start to affect her in such a way? Best to ignore it, she reasoned. She rolled her eyes and cracked a smile back. "Where should we start looking for your present?"

"You tell me."

When she scoffed lightly, he added, "I already told you that I have no clue what to get, so I'm waiting on your expertise."

"Alright, alright. Who is she?"

"I can't tell you."

"Oh, come off it, Malfoy." Hermione placed her hands on her hips.

"It's called _secret_ santa, Granger, not _revealed_ santa."

"Seriously? How am I supposed to help you if I don't know who we're shopping for?"

Malfoy looked away. "How about you just show me what you'd like?"

The silence that followed prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. "Why would that help?" Internally she cursed how breathy her voice sounded.

"She might share some of your interests." He was still looking in the other direction.

Hermione nodded even though she knew he couldn't see her. "The book store, then."

"Naturally."

It wasn't until nearly two hours later when they emerged from the shop, Hermione's arms laden with a variety of tomes, and Malfoy's arms barren, that she realized she'd allowed herself to get wildly off track. She shot him an apologetic grin. "Tomorrow?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Tomorrow."

...

One of these days, she really ought to tell him that she didn't mean first thing in the morning. It was Tuesday, eight sharp, and he was at her desk waiting again. As she approached she realized she was in for a lot more than she bargained for from this secret santa. Instead of just the new gifts for the second day of Christmas, there were now a total of four trees, another partridge, and a set of new birds on and around her desk.

"What are these?" Malfoy asked, pointing at the birds.

"Turtle doves," she answered, not taking her eyes away from them. She had never actually seen a turtle dove before, but there was no doubt in her mind.

"I thought you were just supposed to get two things on the second day?" he said, and although it wasn't a true question, his voice turned up at the end in confusion.

"Well the way the song lists it out, it repeats the prior days gifts with each new day..." She tapered off. After a beat she recited in a sing-song voice, "On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me a partridge in a pear tree. On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree."

"Interesting." Malfoy was already pushing some grass through the partridge's cage. "What are you going to name this one? Malcolm?"

Hermione glared. "I'm _not_ keeping this one."

...

Shirley (as Hermione was certain that this partridge was a girl) sat on her desk quiet and content all morning while she worked, so when the bird called out in her scratchy voice around one in the afternoon, Hermione jumped.

Malfoy was standing next to the desk with his winter cloak draped over one arm. "Lunch?"

Hermione looked up at him and felt a heat on her cheeks. "Oh! Erm..."

"Relax, Granger," he let out a quick laugh, apparently tickled by her assumption. "It's a working lunch. You promised yesterday that we'd work on my present today. I thought you might think better on a full stomach."

"Yes, of course," came her mumbled reply. _Of course_ it was not a date, she chided herself. She shuffled some papers around. "The Leaky?"

"I'd prefer a little more upscale, if you don't mind. Le Plat Noir?"

"I've never been." Hermione smoothed out her hair self-consciously. "Are work clothes permissible?"

"You look fine." He said without looking and threw her cloak at her from the coat rack. "Let's go, I'm starved."

...

For a _non_ date, Le Plat Noir was quite an intimate setting. The dining area was comprised mostly of secluded booths and the candles on the chandeliers cast a warm glow over the room. Her exotic looking food came on an obsidian plate, Malfoy informed her, so each time her fork struck the plate, she sucked in a sharp breath, worried that she might chip the glassy dish.

"Wine?" Malfoy held the decanter toward her glass.

"We're on the clock," Hermione replied and took a purposeful sip from her water glass.

"Not at the moment," he said, pouring some for himself. "You'd be missing out. The chef here prepares each dish with a wine in mind. The flavors aren't complete without the drink." He offered her the decanter once more.

Hermione bit her lip and thought for a moment. The aroma was rather inviting. "Only one." She pushed her empty wine glass forward.

"Lovely."

She swirled the liquid in her glass. "I thought you wanted me to help you shop."

"I did." Malfoy inclined his head.

"What's all this, then?" She gestured at the wine in particular, but she meant all of it, and by his expression she could tell he understood.

"I realized you're a rubbish shopping partner."

Hermione opened her mouth to object but Malfoy put his hand up. "Please. We spent hours in Flourish and Blotts yesterday and mere minutes in you'd forgotten I existed and went on a tear. I've decided to use you for your brain instead."

Her mouth clapped shut. She was unsure if she should take that statement as a compliment. "Go on."

Malfoy took a pull from his wine glass and let her wait for his response. Finally he said, "Tell me about you. Things you like. Things you don't."

"Now, _Draco,_ is that a line?" She cooed, emboldened by the warmth of the wine and hoping to embarrass him. She was rewarded when he flushed slightly.

"A request."

"Okay. I like..." She took another sip and drew out the pause. "this wine."

"I told you so." He laughed.

Suddenly she was feeling rather childish. She stuck out her tongue.

"Come on, it's not every day I get to tell Hermione Granger 'I told you so'."

"It's not _any_ day you get to tell me 'I told you so'."

"Cocky."

"Smug."

Silence fell over them. For some reason, Hermione could feel the corners of her lips itching to roll up into a smile. Malfoy checked his watch.

"We should get back to the office." He waved for the waiter to bring the check. "Think about it, though. I've seen in your reports how you love to make lists. So come up with things you like and don't like for me. You can give me the ideas tomorrow."

The wine made it so that Hermione couldn't tell how fast she was nodding her head so she stopped. "Tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

Wednesday morning came. Malfoy had beaten her to her desk yet again. He was staring at the floor and there was a telltale clucking noise coming from behind the new set of potted trees.

"Chickens?" He asked as she drew closer.

Hermione sighed. "Hens." Sure enough there was a set of three, pecking at the legs of her chair.

"And here are your new doves, the third partridge, and the trees. I think they're birch today."

"Splendid." She passed Malfoy and cast a spell that penned the hens and doves into a circle on the floor.

"Have you worked out who's sending them yet?"

She shook her head. "I've thought about it some, but no one jumps out. The only lead I can come up with is that it must be a pureblood." She began to peruse the pile of memos built up in her inbox.

Malfoy looked up with a strange expression- mouth agape and brows knit. "How do you figure?"

"Anyone who grew up around muggles wouldn't have made the mistake of thinking the first line was a pair of trees." She groaned.

"What was the mistake?"

"It's pear like a fruit, not pair like two."

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair. "I'll tell you what, muggles have a funny way of celebrating Christmas."

Hermione let out a barking, humorless laugh. "This isn't how muggles celebrate Christmas!" She felt defensive, a stark change to how she was feeling at lunch the day before. Not that she exactly had a name for the feelings she felt yesterday.

"It's from a _muggle_ song." He argued. He seemed to pick up on her energy and prickled back at her just as quickly.

"Yes, but we don't actually give each other these things. It's _just_ a song."

"Why would you sing about it if it's not true?"

"I don't know." She huffed with exasperation. Usually in times like these she would cart out some trivia and set him in his place, but she didn't know where the lyrics for the song originated. Her curious mind must have always taken a break around holiday tradition.

"See?" Malfoy was smiling mockingly. "Silly."

"Like you've never had any traditions that you follow blindly?" Hermione blurted back.

Just like that, the mood shifted. Hermione could see the muscles in Malfoy's jaw tense and he moved his left arm behind his back. His _marked_ arm. Yes, there was something in his past that he'd followed blindly, and they both knew it. The proof was scarred onto his now hidden forearm. In the past few months working together they had danced gracelessly around the topic, pretending they were mere school rivals instead of enemies that had been on opposite sides of a war.

Briefly she felt shame for bringing it up. But she hadn't meant to bring it up. She would have been perfectly content to keep that darkness under the surface, keep pretending for the sake of civility. She'd felt a tension recently, of course, but she'd started to wonder in the last few days if that tension had morphed from something angry into... something else. Should she apologize? No, she resolved, she hadn't done anything wrong. And really, between them, he should be the one to apologize. She waited.

Malfoy hadn't blinked in probably a full minute, she guessed, when he finally cleared his throat. He made some excuse that Hermione didn't quite hear and shuffled away. She slouched into her desk chair and spent the rest of the day pointedly ignoring the noises of fluttering wings and the accompanying stares.

...

Thursday morning was another surprise.

Malfoy was back. After yesterday she fully expected all of their communication to be through department memos for a while.

He had already trapped all the birds (nine, after the addition of four songbirds, not including the partridge which was, as usual, in a cage on her desk) and was sitting in her guest chair. He didn't look happy, although to be fair, he never quite looked happy.

"Granger-"

"Malfoy, if you're looking for me to take back what I said yesterday-" She cut him off but then he returned the favor.

"No, I..." he started. He sat for a moment, seeming to consider his words, then turned away when he couldn't find the ones he wanted. Standing, he reached out to a fruit dangling from the leaves of the tree closest to his chair. "Pear. It seems... he has realized his mistake," he said carefully. Malfoy's burning eyes found hers and she knew from his intensity that he was speaking less about the corrected gift and more about himself. It wasn't exactly an apology, but his face looked more sincere than she had ever thought him capable of.

She didn't want to let it go so easily though. This may be their only chance to say what needed to be said. "Just a little mistake, huh?"

Malfoy's eye contact faltered for a second. "No." He looked back up. "A fundamental misunderstanding... of the song. It was wrong." Hermione held her breath a moment longer. Malfoy lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, alright? I thought you knew that already."

Hermione pulled in a deep breath. "You never said before..."

"I guess I never wanted to bring it up, in case the answer wasn't what I wanted to hear."

"You must know that I forgave you a long time ago." She hadn't really known it herself until the words came, but instantly she knew it was true.

His head was tilted down so that, even though he was taller, he was peering at her through his lashes. "No. I didn't know."

They were interrupted by a loud squawk and the spell between them was broken.

"I've been thinking," Malfoy said as he sat back down and reached into their 'to-do' pile. "Maybe your secret santa is Levi from Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. He's pureblood, and I saw him making eyes at you last week."

"Making eyes? Really?" Hermione laughed at his choice of language, but joined him in sorting through their work.

...

Making guesses became like a ritual between them each morning from then.

"Do you think these are real gold?" Malfoy asked while inspecting one of the five rings the next day. "I don't think Levi could afford them if so. Maybe it's Scott from the Administrative Registration Department, he's a little too into birds and he has galleons to burn."

...

"I've got it," he announced on Saturday morning after they'd both arrived to her desk even though they didn't work weekends. He picked up the slip of paper that simply said **From your S.S.** "It's Snape. He's signed his initials this time!"

"Come off it, it stands for secret Santa!" She whined jovially, but couldn't completely stifle a shudder. "Anyway, it would have to be a member of the DMLE and last I checked he was still making student life miserable at Hogwarts."

...

For Sunday, they actually planned to meet. Hermione showed up to Malfoy swatting geese away from the sack of pastries he was carrying. She handed him a coffee and dropped hers on her desk far enough from the new partridge to avoid any flying feathers.

"What if it's Reed?" Malfoy said as he blew some steam away from his cup. "You know, the loud mouth from the Department of Intoxicating Substances. He made a big show of informing us that he had tickets to a muggle production of _Swan_ Lake."

"Coincidence. It's just another line in the song," Hermione answered, giving the seven white birds side eye over her croissant.

...

On the second Monday, it took her longer than usual to get to her desk as she had to chase some wayward fowl through the building. When she finally arrived she was quite red in the face but couldn't tell if it was from the physical exertion or the embarrassment of it all.

Malfoy had beaten her to her desk yet again, but he was the only one there. Wasn't this the day for eight maids? Shouldn't she be able to see a group of women surrounding her desk? She drew closer and she realized why she couldn't see anyone around all the trees. They were simply too short.

"House elves?" She exclaimed in horror.

Malfoy was rubbing his neck and looked equally uncomfortable. "At least they were given clothes," he pointed out. The creatures each wore a frilly maid apron which were actually perfectly fitted for their doll-like bodies. The elf closest to Hermione held up an old-fashioned looking jar.

"Milk, Miss?"

Hermione reached out silently and took hold of the milk jar. "Who sent you?" The elf only blinked it's bulging eyes in return then disapparated with a loud crack. The rest followed suit one after another.

"This is getting out of hand!" she groused and slammed the milk down harder than she meant.

"I'll say. It looks like a bleeding forest in here." Malfoy pushed a few branches aside and grabbed one of the milk jars with a chuckle. "But at least it's not a farm right now."

"Malfoy, this isn't funny!"

"I disagree." He sipped some milk and smirked around the lip of the jar. "Try some, it's quite fresh."

"No. It's _not_ funny. Although I'm sure whoever is sending this is having a right laugh at my torture, as is everyone else who saw me trying to catch the rogue goose in the atrium this morning."

Malfoy squinted his eyes down at his hands. "I think you've got it wrong, Granger. This isn't supposed to be 'torture'. He's following the words of the song. He fancies himself your _true love_."

Hermione gasped. "Do you... do you think it could be Ron? I'm the one who ended things, no matter what you hear those witches gossiping."

"I know." Malfoy answered. Hermione looked at him questioningly. "Potter told me, the night we went out to the pub after that potions bust."

"So he did get pissed!" She laughed despite herself. "I can't imagine he would have told you that otherwise. I suppose it doesn't much matter though. But, what if this is Ron's way of trying to win me back with some grand Christmas gesture?"

Malfoy was quiet for a minute. His face was pinched in a way that seemed foreign on his features, like he was figuring out how to be delicate. "Granger, no offense but I think he's moved on. I have it on good authority that he's interested in the witch he drew for secret santa. And she's not you," he added.

"Good authority?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Potter. After a glass of firewhiskey. Or two."

Hermione huffed. "So he's moved on then."

"What, did you think he was going to wait around?" Malfoy asked and Hermione shrugged in return. "Did you _want_ to get back together?"

The question felt so personal, but for some reason she couldn't not answer it. Something in her needed him to know that's not what she wanted. "No.. I just… It's so soon after, is all."

"Granger, it's been three months."

"Yes," she admitted. A quiver made it's way into her voice. "But we were together for six years. Three months is a drop in the bucket comparatively."

"Are you saying you're not ready to move on?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Malfoy was waiting in his seat immobile looking straight at her. It was almost like he actually cared.

"I… I mean, no one's been asking. So I didn't think about it, I guess." She mumbled.

"Someone is asking."

Hermione froze again. They locked eyes and there was a drawn out beat before he cleared his throat and panned his hand around the room to point out all the trees. "Obviously. _Someone_ seems to be asking now."

Hermione let out a breath. "Yeah, someone."


	4. Chapter 4

"Good morning. Here again, are you?" Hermione called out as she trudged in on Tuesday. Malfoy was watching a group of nine enchanted ballerina puppets performing pirouettes around her desk. He'd stayed away for most of the previous day after their deeply personal conversation, but Hermione found herself pleased that their new morning tradition wasn't ruined.

"I couldn't miss what the ninth day of Christmas had to offer," he said without looking directly at her. He dropped a document in her inbox and turned to leave. Hermione's stomach dropped. She'd grown used to spending time with him over the past week.

"Well, hold on. I could get us coffees again and we can work on this new file together."

"No... uh, no thanks. I've got a lot of my own stuff to get through today. I need to finish on time today so I can get to Diagon Alley after work." Malfoy reached for one of the eight milk jars in front of him. "I'll take another of these though, if you don't mind."

"I think I have enough to spare," she quipped then raised one brow. "What's in Diagon Alley tonight?"

"Hopefully a Christmas present." Malfoy shrugged.

"Oh! You still haven't...? Of course, because I didn't... I mean, should I come with you?"

He laughed. "Right, because that worked out so well last time."

Then it dawned on her. "I didn't buy my secret santa gift yet!"

"You'd better get on that. Only three days left you know." He was laughing a little, teasing her, but obviously in the same boat.

She huffed but smiled despite herself. "I did write you out a list of suggestions last week like you asked, though. I just forgot to give it to you because... well, you know." She blushed in remembering their spat from the week before. "Anyway, it's here somewhere... aha!" She pulled a sheet out of a drawer and brandished it at him.

"I'm okay, actually. I got something in mind. Maybe."

"Please take it, in any case." Hermione grabbed his hand and placed the paper in it, a genius idea forming in her mind. "It'll make me feel less one-sided when I ask you for help with my secret santa gift." _What better place to get an idea for a present than the recipient himself?_

Malfoy gave her a half sad kind of smile. "A bloke, I'm guessing." She nodded and tried to keep her face neutral. He squinted for a moment as he thought. "Cufflinks. Doesn't matter what kind of man he is, if he works here with us he'll need them for a function at some point. And most men, not including myself of course, rarely think of them."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand and laughed heartily.

"What?" he demanded. He was wearing an expression that looked like one of the partridges when his feathers got ruffled.

"Sorry, nothing," she breathed between giggles. "That was my first thought too, actually."

_With ferrets on them._

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Alright then. I'll let you get to it." He gave a stilted waved and walked off.

Hermione sat in her desk chair and turned to the stack of papers in her inbox, still chuckling quietly to herself. Well, it would have been a good idea, she thought, if he hadn't given her a suggestion that, by his own admission, didn't apply to him. Suddenly she froze and allowed her eyes to find his still retreating figure down the hall.

_What better place to get an idea for a present than the recipient_ her _self?_

Had Malfoy used this same thought for finding his own secret santa gift? The cogs in her brain clicked into place. She'd played the Christmas carol in his presence only days before the first present arrived and the mistake of a pair of trees versus a pear tree had been corrected when she told him about it. By Malfoy's own guess, her secret santa would be a pureblood man with a decently sized Gringott's vault. He certainly checked both of those criteria. And hadn't he been at her desk before her every morning since this whole thing started? That would have given him the chance to plant the gifts!

Bugger.

Heat rose in her cheeks again as she replayed their conversation from the prior day in her head again.

_"He fancies himself your true love."_

When Malfoy had first come to her asking for help, she'd guessed that he had a thing for the muggle-born witch that he drew from the cauldron. But she couldn't have guessed then that it was her!

_"Are you saying you're not ready to move on?"_

Hermione groaned. She'd brought up _Ron_ of all things. Her face paled. She realized that she hadn't answered Malfoy's question. She _was_ ready to move on. Her next reluctant realization was that she might care for him to know that answer.

...

Malfoy did a bang-up job of avoiding her for the rest of the day, so Hermione decided that she could stage a run-in at Diagon Alley. She had to get her last minute Christmas shopping done anyway, and she knew he'd be there. She fussed with her hair a little more than usual before grumpily forcing a hat over it when she found the weather had taken cold and windy turn. After about twenty minutes spent searching more for him than for a gift, she was about to give up when she saw a flash of white blond hair enter a shop just down the way. Of course Malfoy would rather brave the cold than subject himself to hat hair, she scoffed. Hermione followed him into the shop, happily finding that it was a book store. If she _happened_ to run into him here, she would hardly have to make an excuse. Still, she stayed sneaking, keeping an eye on him through the stacks. Just as she had made up her mind to reveal herself, she overhead his conversation with the shopkeeper.

"That one," Malfoy said while he pointed into a case. Hermione couldn't make out the contents.

"The gold and ruby, sir?" The older man asked.

"Yes."

The shopkeeper pulled something shiny out of the case and held it up. Hermione took a few silent steps closer until she could make out what the object was. It was a fancy metal bookmark, in Gryffindor colors. She stumbled backwards. So it was true! This was the final proof she needed- Draco Malfoy was her secret santa!

In her shock, she backed into a shelf with a loud bump. The shopkeeper lifted his head.

"Are you alright, miss?"

Malfoy started to turn around. She couldn't run into him now that she caught him buying her present! She ducked quickly behind the shelf and steadied it.

"Fine, thank you!" she shouted gruffly, hoping to distort her voice enough that Malfoy wouldn't recognize her. She held her breath until she heard the bell on the door signaling Malfoy had left.

The shopkeeper eyed her suspiciously as she tried to slink away. Out of guilt, she purchased the closest book she could reach, and didn't notice until she was back on the street that she'd just bought a copy of The Ultimate Wizard Guide to Winning Witches.

...

On Wednesday morning, Hermione went straight for Harry's office instead of her own desk. Malfoy was probably at her desk waiting for her to see the new gift he left, but she just couldn't face him yet. Not now that she knew he had feelings towards her and she had... well, _something_ towards him.

"Here," she grumbled as she chucked her new book at Harry. Luckily he recovered from his surprise quick enough to catch it against his chest.

"What's this?" Harry adjusted his glasses. "Is this some kind of hint? Has Ginny complained about something?"

"No." Hermione helped herself to one of his tea biscuits. "A long story, that's what that is. But I know you have a tendency to be a last minute shopper, so I thought I'd pass something along that I obviously have no use for."

"Hey!" He shooed her hand away from his biscuits. "Who're you suggesting I gift this to exactly? Ron?"

She held her hands palm up in an _I don't know_ gesture.

"This would kind of be an insult gift for him, Hermione. Or anyone our age, really."

Sighing, she got past his swatting hand and stole one more biscuit. "Then you see why I can't give it as _my_ secret santa gift."

He choked out a laugh into his tea. "Malfoy? Oh please give it to him, 'Mione. I just have to see his face when he unwraps this!" Her friend then stifled his laughter in response to her dark glare. "What happened to the cufflink idea?"

"He's got enough, I've heard."

Harry winked. "Ah, but I'd bet not any with rodents on them." He dodged a smack.

" _Not_ helping, Harry."

...

Malfoy must have already come and gone from her desk by the time she made it over. She could tell because there were only seven jars of milk lined up from that morning's house elf delivery. She took stock of day ten's new gift: male puppets that joined the ballerinas in graceful jetés _._

...

On Thursday morning, she caught sight of the blond only as he was leaving her desk. Retreating, was more like it, with his index fingers stuck firmly in his ears, like the rest of the ministry workers around. She saw Malfoy mouth ' _good luck_ ' to her as he passed. Or maybe he yelled it and she just couldn't hear him. Who's to know, she thought, although the dreadful shrieking of eleven bagpipes and the squawking of no less than six types of perturbed birds was enough to drown out even her thoughts, too.

...

Friday morning, there was no Malfoy to be found. It seemed her not-so-secret santa had decided that a second all-out commotion at her desk was inadvisable, possibly because of a memo that circulated immediately after the bagpiper debacle. ' _All secret santa gifts to be exchanged at the holiday party tomorrow only. No exceptions. No live gifts of any kind.'_ So, instead of his usual compounding gift, he'd opted for just a type written note again, simply stating: **On the twelfth day of Christmas, my secret santa met me at the department holiday party.** Hermione couldn't stop the grin that curled on her lips.

...

At precisely five o'clock, Hermione shucked her work robes in the loo, revealing the cream colored cocktail dress she'd had underneath all day. The dress was a little rumpled, but it was nothing a little de-wrinkling spell couldn't fix. She smoothed the fabric down again by hand and took one last look in the mirror, biting her lip. She had been dreading this Christmas party for two weeks but things had changed so drastically for her in that time. Fourteen days ago she barely tolerated Draco Malfoy as a fellow human being and now she decided he wasn't all bad. At the very least, he was a competent coworker. But he was more than that. Could she call him a friend? Could he be more? Hermione had tried her best to ignore how good he'd looked lately, but the genuine smiles she'd earned from him recently changed her opinion for the better in that respect, too. And if anyone asked, she would swear up and down that her choice of dress had nothing to do with the desire to make him think the same of her.

It was a good thing no one was asking. She wasn't even convincing herself.

Hermione did well enough mingling at the party. That is, if you count rolling her eyes at her colleagues only twice as behaving well, which she certainly did because someone had been a little heavy handed with the rum in the eggnog and its effects were showing. Not to mention the roving charmed mistletoe that caught more than a few odd couples in awkward holiday kisses.

Through all of this, a certain former Slytherin was conspicuously missing. When Robards announced it was time to exchange secret santa gifts, Hermione started to become a little worried. The room became a mad house of scattering people. She abandoned hope of finding the wizard and instead decided to stay in one place herself to wait for him to find her. For lack of anything else to do, she fluffed the bow on her present. It had been crushed nearly flat by her sweaty, tight grip.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," said a male voice that seemed to materialize beside her. Unfortunately it was not the particular male voice she had hoped for. It was Scott from the Administrative Registration Department, a short and stocky wizard with close cropped brown hair and deep tan complexion. "You look beautiful in that dress."

"Oh, hi Scott." She forced a smile at the man's own ill-fitting suit. "Thank you, happy Christmas to you. And, uh, you look nice as well." She let her eyes scan the crowd again, hardly noticing that Scott had not moved on yet.

"Looking for someone?"

She nodded. "My secret santa. Have you seen Malfoy anywhere?"

Instead of answering, Scott stepped back into her line of vision and asked another question of his own, a hint amusement laced in his voice. "Do you call everyone by their last names?"

Hermione lifted one shoulder in a half shrug and angled her body so she could still have the best view of everyone else in the room. "Just him. It doesn't mean anything," she clarified out of embarrassment, "just habit."

Scott cocked his head to the side. "Well, him _and_ me. Does it mean anything toward me?"

"You?" Hermione said, turning back to him with her brows knit. The man was looking at her hopefully, but his expression changed then to confusion.

"You did know Scott is my last name, right?" The wizard formerly known as Scott asked.

"Oh, sure I knew that!" She said a little too loudly to be believed. "Scott just rolls off the tongue so much easier than..." She floundered and trailed off.

"Sebastien," he finished for her. "My given name is Sebastien." He eyed her intently, then added, "Sebastien Scott. _SS_."

Hermione allowed herself to regain her composure and the rest of his words started to sink in. "S.S.?" Her knees suddenly felt wobbly. If he meant what she thought he meant then... maybe she was wrong about Malfoy and his feelings for her.

"It also stands for secret santa." Sebastien gave her a mischievous smile. "I have to say I'm a little surprised. When I put just the initials on the note, I was sure you'd figure it out straight away." He lifted a blue and silver wrapped package in front of her and his expression turned softer. "Anyway, it's time for your final gift. Care to see what your true love gave to you?"

"I..." Hermione blushed crimson. The night was not going at all how she expected. Well, that's not exactly true. She did expect (or hope, really) that her secret santa might be forward with her, but that was when she imagined him to be taller and a bit more pale.

She stowed her present for Malfoy under her arm and took the offered box in front of her. "Oh, heavier than it looks. There aren't twelve tiny drummers in here waiting to spring out on me, are there?"

Sebastien only smiled wider. Hermione ripped the wrapping paper off to reveal plain box, inside of which was a glittering snow globe, empty except for the iridescent snow flakes.

"It's really lovely, Sebastien. Thank you."

He pointed to a small knob on the side of the globe and started to crank the knob in a circle. "Wait until you wind it up."

The melody for the Twelve Days of Christmas tinkled out sounding like tiny bells. Then, the once empty globe came to life with miniature images of all the gifts she had received, including the final day that he hadn't had a chance to actually give her- a group of twelve nutcracker soldiers beating on snare drums.

"It's lovely, truly," Hermione repeated. She swallowed a lump in her throat when she realized Sebastien had not yet removed his hand from the snow globe. The two of them were holding it between them, almost touching hands. He was looking at her as if she had just given him a gift instead of the other way around.

"I was wondering," he ventured, "do you have plans for New Year's Eve?"

Hermione blinked to break their eye contact and turned away. She was considering what she could say back to let him down easily when her gaze happened upon Malfoy past a break in the masses. He was with a petite brunette who flashed him an eager smile as she accepted the gift bag he held out to her. Hermione couldn't stop a gasp.

"Who's that?"

Sebastien frowned but followed her line of sight. "The witch with Draco Malfoy?" Hermione nodded in return. "Colette Moreau. She's from the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects." Sebastien's head bounced back and forth between Hermione and Colette and he let out a surprised whistle. "That's funny! It never occurred to me how much you two look alike before now. You two related?"

"No." Heat began to build in Hermione's chest. "I... I've got to go." Without another glance, she rushed out of the room.

"What about New Year?" Sebastien yelled in futility to her back.

...

When she was in the safety of her home, Hermione stripped out of her dress immediately and threw on her "downtime uniform": baggy sweatpants, an old tank top, her paisley housecoat, and a pair of cat slippers that could purr when she walked. She was halfway to the freezer to fetch a pint of ice cream when her doorbell rang. Her slippers padded and purred across the floor until she reached the threshold and opened the door.

"Malfoy?" Instinctively she tugged her robe closer around her middle. She'd barely had enough time to contemplate her feelings, or wallow in them more likely, and here he was to... to do what?

"You left the party," he said by way of greeting. His eyes scanned her body without bothering to hide it. "Nice slippers."

"W-what are you doing here?" she stammered. Silently, she wished she'd kept her party clothes on for just a bit longer.

"I believe I'm showing up uninvited at your flat in the middle of the night."

The grin he gave her was subtle and cheeky. Hermione blushed. He'd said those same words two weeks ago in a quarrel. How strange it was that something that sounded so distasteful then could sound so playful now.

"How did you know where I live?"

He chuckled and started to respond but Hermione cut him off. "Let me guess. Harry after having some of that eggnog." Malfoy tapped the end of his nose twice, indicating that she guessed correctly.

"Of course." She stuffed her hands in her pockets and racked her brain for anything else to say. "So... Colette Moreau?" _Ugh. Why did that have to be the first thing that came to mind?_ She almost smacked herself in the forehead with her palm.

"Colette Moreau," he affirmed, starting to look a little uneasy, shivering on her stoop in the winter air.

The heat blossomed back under Hermione's chest, blocking any chill from outside. Suddenly Hermione didn't have to contemplate her feelings anymore, she knew exactly what they were- jealousy and loneliness. Jealousy because she had only just figured out what she wanted, and loneliness because the possibility was lost just as quickly as she had found it. With a deep breath, she pushed her emotions down and kept her voice as even as possible. "Did she enjoy the bookmark, then?"

Malfoy's jaw dropped open and he breathed out a big puff of white air. "The what?"

"The secret santa gift you gave her. Did she like it?"

"Oh, I... no. I didn't give her a bookmark." Malfoy crossed his arms. "How did you know about that? Were you spying on me?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. "No! It was an accident!" She drew her mouth in a thin line. All her feelings of pining flew out the window and she reverted back to her old bickering ways. "Anyway, are you just here to accuse me, or what?" She reached out for the edge of her door and held it tensed to show him she could easily swing it shut in his face. From the next room, the partridges seemed to sense her distress and squawked in a loud chorus.

"You've got a whole family of partridges in there by now, huh?" Malfoy asked, trying to change the subject. Hermione wanted to laugh at the unintended joke, but she held back to keep an air of authority. He sighed, a look of concession taking over his features. "No, definitely not to accuse you. Look, can I just come in for a tick? It's freezing out here." Hermione didn't move to allow him in. He sighed again. "It's about my present."

She kept still. "I see. I'm sure you figured out that I'm your secret santa since you didn't get a gift at the party."

"No. Well, yes. I mean, I did put that together, but I was talking about my present for you."

Malfoy reached one gloved hand into his coat pocket and extracted a small, thin package dressed up in green and red ribbon. She pulled in an audible breath and stepped backward in surprise. Malfoy took that as an opening and advanced over the threshold into her flat. Once they were on level ground, she had to incline her head to look him in the eye, and for some reason that was the only place she could look.

She tore her gaze away to find, beneath the pretty paper, the shining gold and red jewel studded bookmark. It was even more beautiful up close. "You didn't draw my name," she whispered, too dumbstruck to form the question she really meant to ask.

"True." Suddenly Malfoy's hands were with hers. "But I wanted to get this for you anyway."

Hermione's hands felt slick within his. "But... Colette Moreau."

"What about her?' Malfoy asked quietly.

"You liked her. You as good as told me so the day you asked for help with her gift." Hermione's words started to come fast. "What would she think about you being here now?"

"Colette Moreau..." Malfoy began pensively. After a moment of quiet he cleared his throat. "She was a substitute. A poor man's version of the real thing."

Hermione bit her lip around her growing smile. "And you fancy yourself the poor man in this scenario?"

His eyes remained serious and there was no humour in his tone when he responded. "I've always been lacking in what I have to offer when it comes to you."

By the time she realized what she was doing, she'd already leaned halfway to him and he met her the rest of the way. Their lips brushed, soft and unsure. Hermione felt the burning return to her chest, but this time it was in pleasure instead of in pain. She wound her arms around his shoulders and his hands found their way to her waist. Tentatively, his tongue sought hers and the heat in her bosom spread lower. She groaned into his mouth and his responding laugh was husky. Together they stumbled sideways in the vague direction of her living room, groping to find the couch. Hermione's legs buckled when her knee found the couch and they tumbled down, her landing with her back to the cushion and Malfoy on top beaming down at her.

...

Midnight found the couple still on the couch under a blanket, entwined at the limbs, sans a few items of clothing. They were listening to the sounds of their gulping breath when their background music of bird song turned to silence. Hermione blinked around.

"No more birds. The gold rings were over there on my desk and now they're gone. I'll bet all the milk in my fridge disappeared, too."

"They were like leprechaun coins the whole time, set to vanish after your twelve days of Christmas," Malfoy concluded. "At least you've got one gift that will stick around."

Hermione thought it might not be the best time to bring up the snow globe from Sebastien, so instead she planted a chaste kiss to Malfoy's cheek. "Do you mean the bookmark or you?"

"Two then," he said as he nuzzled beneath her ear.

"Oh! I forgot to give you your gift!" She sat up and dug around their discarded clothes.

"I beg to differ," he drawled flirtatiously.

Hermione nudged him on the shoulder and rolled her eyes. "Here." She plunked a thick rectangular package on his lap. "Harry wanted to be here to see this..." she paused when she noticed the look on her partner's face. "Oh hush, I don't mean _this_ ," she used her index finger to pull down his side of the blanket, revealing more of his toned stomach. "I mean you opening this gift. But, present circumstances in mind, maybe it's best if we keep it to ourselves."

" _Definitely_ best." Malfoy's fingers grasped his parcel. "It feels like a book. I should have guessed, coming from you."

Hermione bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing as he ripped the wrapping paper. She watched his eyes scan the title of the book once, twice, then up to her in confusion.

"Is... is this a joke?"

She winked. "How about... a challenge?"

Malfoy's frown turned into a smirk. He tackled her and kissed her forcefully, letting his new copy of The Ultimate Wizard Guide to Winning Witches fall to the floor.

"Game on, Santa."


End file.
